The Odds Of Fate
by Emily0130
Summary: "Something has made it so we have never seen each other, someone has done this to us. It could be Them, but I think we both know who it really is. It is him. He has kept us away."- Fallstreak. Okay sorry for the lame summary, but please read! Thank you! First HG fic, don't hate! Rated T for violence and mild language.


**So, this is my first HG fic, so don't flame! And, I didn't really know what to name the title, so yeah, it sucks. But anywho, (try to) enjoy the story!**

My eyes flicker open and I see the familiar crack in my slanted ceiling, and of course a droplet of water flicks onto my head. My hands sink into my light hair and I ruffle it. The candle next to my bed is smoking lightly. I wait for the morning bell to strike, but then I remember. Today is the Reaping. I bound up, and my feet slip into my old sandals. It would be a nice day to go fishing, and if I had time, collect shells with Winnow, if it weren't for what would happen in the afternoon.

I stomp down the stairs, and smell what I think is eggs cooking other the gas stove. Winnow's family, the Battenburg's have a chicken coop and they sell us eggs for half price.

"Mornin'," I say to my mother. She turns around, distracted from her cooking, and smiles. "Did you sleep well?" She asks. My head hovers half a foot over her's, as I stare down at the scrambling eggs in the small frying pan. "Yeah, but that crack in the ceiling keeps leaking," I groan stumbling to the ice chest, which is literally an ice chest. There's some cut up pineapple, which I grab shoving it my mouth. "I meant to ask Aaron, to see is he could fix it, but I never got around to it," My mother's short hair whips around and she stares at me eating the pineapple. "Those are for tonight! Don't eat, these eggs'll be ready in just a minute!" She yells. My feet shuffle towards the door in a daze. "Hey!" My mother shouts. "Put some close on, you can't walk around in your trousers all day!"

* * *

I'm dressed in a shabby green t-shirt and gym short, but I won't be wearing this to the Reaping. Outside, the tide is low, so if Winnow is awake, we can collect shells. Winnow's family are the only neighbors we have for miles around. They live right on the beach, like us, and her older brother, Maverick, and her father, Aaron work on the boat with me. I'm only fifteen, but in 4 work starts at thirteen for boys, and fifteen for girls. So Winnow will start next year on the boat.

My feet are submerged into the sand outside of my raggedy door. I grab my fishing pole, an old one, that was suppose to be my dad's before he died. It's a flexible metal-made one with red paint that began to chip quite a long time ago. On the wooden handle, my initials are carved. My thumb brushes over my sloppy carving skills, and I stare down at the "L.E." remembering the warm summer evening that I carved it. My mother yelled at me when I did, because I stole a kitchen knife to do it. I grab my tackle box and a container filled with dirt and worms. I see Winnow's house, a few yards away from the rocks, and she sprints out. I wave to her as I try to re-thread the fishing line. She walks down her steps, wearing a sky blue skirt, and a white blouse with some faux gold buttons running down the center. She has a single braid running threw her light blonde hair.

"Lev!" She shouts running up to me. My name isn't actually Lev, it's Leven. Leven Edenthaw.

"You fishing?" She asks. "Yeah," I tell her walking into the waves. "Well don't get dirty, the Reaping is in a few hours."

"I'm not wearing this to the Reaping," my fingers work nimbly and I finish threading my line. "You look lovely," I say smiling. "Thanks, but I'm not even supposed to be on the beach. My mother thinks I'll get dirty." I look deep into her light blue eyes. "She probably right." I laugh.

"Shut up!" She nudges my side with her elbow. The cold water rushes across my feet. "It'd be a nice day to catch up on some chores," I say, sitting in the sand, wiping my hands free of wet sand. "If it weren't for the stupid Reaping." I mumble.

"Hey, at least we can have a few hours of time before someone has to die," she picks up a worm and baits my hook. I have to catch some fish for dinner, maybe cod, so my mother can season it with pineapple. That'll be good. Fried cod with grilled pineapple. A nice celebration feast for two. We seldom have good meals, I mostly eat on the boat, which has terrible food. The only day I actually get off is on Sundays, and of course, The Reaping.

"I just can't wait to see what Puella Summus is wearing this year," I groan casting my line. "Yeah let's just hope she didn't role around in a crayon box." Winnow sits down next to me and runs her fingers through her hair.

We make jokes about the Reaping every year, about Puella, and her silly outfits but the truth is, that we're scared. We're really scared. We cover it up with jokes and we laugh at the Capitol, but we're terrified. What would happen if one of us got picked? We can fish, and we're pretty good with knots, but how could we survive The Hunger Games?

* * *

Within a half and hour I've caught three cod fish and a small trout. I walk inside and put them in the ice box, when I see a plate of eggs on the counter for me. I grin, and eat them, even though they're cold. I sit down on one of the small wooden chairs surrounding the rectangular table. I eat in relative silence, I assume my mother is getting dressed. I shovel down my eggs, and bolt upstairs to get dressed.

I bathe in the small bucket that we filled with mildly warm water. I give my dirty blonde hair a comb-over. I like it better spiked up in the front, but I have to look nice for the Reaping.

My mother is wearing a floral designed dress, with a white cardigan. I'm wearing a blue button-down with dress pants and shoes. I walk up to her and give her a hug, fear in my eyes. "It's okay," she whispers. "You'll be okay,"

We take the train to the Reaping. The only time I've ever been on it is for the Reaping, otherwise I would have never seen a train. I sit next to Winnow, while my mother talks to Pondus Battenburg, Winnow's mother. I stare at Winnow and she stares back at me. We sit in relative silence as she twirls her hair. The seats are arranged like seats in a restaurant, so she sits across from me, with a small table in between us.

"What are you gonna have for dinner?" I ask casually. It's usually a tradition for families to eat a nice dinner after the Reaping, to celebrate the fact that their child was saved. But of course two families will not celebrate. Their children have been lost.

"My mother is going to serve roast chicken for dinner, and I've made some custard for desert."

"Nice," I say. Winnow has four brothers, three are older one is younger. So a roast chicken might not even hold them off. 4 is considered a Career district, but we're suffering economically, and even if we weren't, I wouldn't be trained to kill. My mother doesn't have the money.

* * *

We arrive at the Town Square in a few minutes, where parents and children spill out of trains, crowding into line trying to find their age section. I'm separated from Winnow and my mother quickly, and I join the other fifteen-year-olds most of which have the same anxious expression on their face that I do. I spot Winnow, and wave to her briefly. The place settles down, and I spot the District four officials take their seat on the stage, waiting patiently for Puella Summus.

I see a purple blur on the other side of the stage and then I see Puella wearing a red- no - purple- no - what color is her wig? Of course it's changing colors along with her skirt and blouse, and I think her gloves too. She struts up to the microphone in heels too tall for life, and gives it a quick tap.

"Welcome! Welcome!" She smiles. "Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the 67th annual Hunger Games." She looks around.

"Now," Puella says. "As usual, ladies first." The multicolored lady walks over to the girls section, and delicately reaches her hand in the glass bowl filled with slips of paper. She grabs one and pulls it out, unfolding it.

"Livorem Wellwood!" She says excitedly. The poofy colorful women browses the crowd of girls looking for a terrified face. Finally, a tan colored girl with dark brown hair steps up to the stage. "There you are!" She exclaimed. Tears roll down her face as she shakes hands with Puella. I don't know this girl, but I think Winnow may have known her vaguely. Puella asks her a few questions, but I don't pay attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" She grabs Livorem's hand and raises it in the air. "Livorem Wellwood!" We clap but not out of excitement. Because we have to.

"And now, for the boys," Peulla says flatly, leaving Livorem crying on the stage. She reaches her hand into the glass bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. She walks over to the center of the stage where the microphone is. My heart is pounding, and I'm breathing intensely. She unfolds the paper and clears her throat. Everything is silent.

"Leven Edenthaw."

**Oh my gosh, who would've known that would happen? *sarcasm hinted* Any who, I'm gonna let you in on a secret on how to come up with excellent names for your fics. Google these exact words: Latin translation **

**Type a random word, and see if it fits for a word! For instance Puella Summus translates to (you're gonna laugh) girl high. Yeah I know and Livorem means stripe. I just made up Wellwood though. Anyway, REVIEW!**


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